The Blithe Traveler

#6 Invisible Monsters

"The novel was originally supposed to be Palahniuk's first novel to be published, but it was rejected by the publisher for being too disturbing." Wiki

"Disturbing" doesn't do this particular work of fiction justice. But I was completely sucked in by it. I am in training for a full marathon right now, so am running a stupid lot of miles. Because I am a slllooooowww runner, the miles take forever. I am stuck on a treadmill more than I care to discuss because I am afraid to run out of doors in the US. No kidding. But that is a story for another day. 

The point of that last paragraph is that while some books are brilliant for alleviating boredom on a treadmill, others do nothing more than make the minutes seem like hours. As incredible a book as Beloved may be, it is not the sort of thing you want to listen to if you are trying to make time pass faster. IT was perfect running material; I was rather sad when that ended and I needed to find another book that would keep me awake as the miles ticked by: turns out, disturbing does it for me. 

Buzzfeed uses the same word: "Full disclosure: This book is disturbing. Like, a model gets shot in the face with a rifle and goes on a journey to find out who did it kinda disturbing. That being said, the writing and structure, much like the story, proves that nothing is ever as it seems. And ultimately, this is a lesson and exploration of what it is to really love someone."

Here's a review I wish I could have written from Goodreads: "Quite possibly the most f(*&ed up piece of literature I’ve ever read, this novel is a brilliantly executed train wreck from beginning to end."

Having finished the book, I am completely flummoxed as to what to say about it. I found it completely engrossing while in the midst of it, although there were several scenes that left me afraid I was going to pass out. Not because I was out of breath, but because the medical descriptions were so very gruesome. One of the downsides of listening to audio books is that it can be hard to "skip" bits. I would definitely have skimmed the surgical reconstruction descriptions had I had a physical book in front of me. Fair warning, they were graphic enough to bring on dizziness.  

Invisible Monsters is one of those books that reveals itself in glimpses: nothing is as you think it is from the get go. The narrator is classically unreliable, and as a reader, if you are the clever sort, you can easily fall into the trap of trying to work it out as you go along. I call it a trap mostly because when I find myself trying to out-clever a clever writer, ultimately, I miss the joy of the book. Part of what the author is doing is setting you up for the reveals, and if you insist on unveiling them yourself, well, I think you don't get the same impact from the story. 

Palahniuk is an engaging writer. I'll drop in a couple of thought provoking quotes. His characters lead significantly less than charmed lives, and are not the happiest sort of people around, so don't be looking for sunshine and unicorns: 

“No matter how careful you are, there's going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice.” 

“If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?” 

Invisible Monster is a hard book to "recommend." While I enjoyed it enough to want to pick up Palahniuk's other well known work of fiction, Fight Club, I'm not sure this is the sort of book you ever want to wave around and proclaim that you "love." Because, it's weird, wild and ends on a note that makes you wonder what exactly just happened. It's not a "love," kind of book. More, it's an fascinating work of fiction by a guy who has a perspective on this world so different from mine he may as well be from Pluto.

Next:  

 

 

 

Edible Labels

Did you know that fruit stickers here in the United States of America are edible? They are made of "edible paper" or other food grade "materials" with the idea in mind that people are going to accidentally eat them. No fooling. Even the glue is food grade, according to the FDA. It's not that you are meant to eat them, it's just that if you accidentally inhale them while scarfing down a peach, you are not going to be facing any long term negative implications. Fruit Label Sticker Facts

Somehow, I cannot see chomping on that label and having it enhance your peach eating experience. But maybe that's just me. 

 

However, our old friends at Anker, in Austria, know how to do edible food lables right. That label doesn't make you think about grabbing a toothpick, does it? The lable is some kind of starchy bread-like material that did not look, feel or taste like paper. "Meisterstück" means "masterpiece." Which, it is. That was some dang fine bread. Label and all.

Next: Flohmarkt

Incongruities

Palais Erzherzog, built by Archduke Ludwig Viktor on the Schwarzenbergplatz on the Ringstraße, is one of many magnificant palaces that were built by wealthy citizens and royalty around the Inner City of Vienna.  This is a side view of the palace. "Erzherzog," by the way, just means "Archduke." 

Here's the front:

We're in the neighborhood of Karlskirche, which I expounded on yesterday. The evening I snapped these photos I stood on the corner at Schwarzenbergplatz for the longest time, just in awe of the light and the beauty of the architecture. I love this corner, and at this time of the evening, the light made me hold my breath and wish it could last forever. 

But back to the Palais. It was built as mentioned by Archduke Ludwig, whose biggest advantage in life was that his older brother was Emperor Franz Josef. There is a lot of interesting information about this fellow, who was known affectionately as Lutzi-Wutzi (pronounced Loot-see Voot-see) on a website called "Gay Influence."

I'll just go ahead and quote, because the writer was clearly in command of his subject, and I would hate to misquote him:

"The archduke (1842-1919) had a face only a mother could love (see photo). After having produced three male heirs, Ludwig’s mom ignored the fact that he wasn’t the girl she had wanted and dressed him like one. As if not to disappoint her, he grew up gay as a goose.  He was an impetuous pleasure-seeker whose life revolved around the theatre and collecting art and antiques. He wore women’s clothing, kvetched and gossiped incessantly and couldn’t be trusted with a secret from anyone. His über-vain sister-in-law Sissi, adored by the Austrians as an antidote to their dull, stuffy emperor, was initially kindly disposed toward Ludwig Viktor, until things she told him in confidence got back to her. It got so bad that she eventually refused to have a conversation with him unless a third party was present to verify what transpired.

But I digress. At age 21, the archduke needed new digs to host his notorious and extravagant “stag” parties, so he built an Italian Renaissance palace on the new Ringstraße, the grand boulevard encircling central Vienna sited along the path of the recently razed city walls." Gay Influence

Alas, while his homosexuality was described as an "open secret" among the royal family, it apparently lead to his ultimate downfall. The story goes that the Archduke approached a young man at the local Turkish Bath. The young man was not amused and knocked the Archduke to the ground. The Archduke used his family name to get the young man arrested, but as there were no real grounds for arrest, the young man was released. The Emperor, hearing of his brother's scandalous behavior, kicked him out of Vienna and told him never to return. 

And that is the story of Palais Erzherzog. You might wonder what I find "incongruous" in all of that. 

Mostly, it's because the Palais is now a Friday's.   

You don't see that every day, do you? Friday's at the Palace, I mean. 

Next: 

 

 

Karlskirche

Let's wander back to Vienna, shall we? I'm feeling nostalgic. Ok, homesick is more like it. If one more person tries to run me over while I am out on a bicycle, I am going to weep bitter tears and attempt to hitchhike to back to Europe.

Described by one site as "The most beautiful and interesting baroque cathedral north of the Alps," Karlskirche is breathtaking both inside and out. The church resides just outside the Ringstraße proper, but when it was originally built, was directly in the line of sight of the Hofsburg Palace. I find that astonishing, given how the city has built itself up in the interum.

"St. Charles's Church," is dedicated to Saint Charles Borromeo, one of the great reformers of the sixteenth century. No, I've never heard of him, so call me a Philistine, or consider yourself in good company if that name means nothing to you. It was pledged to be built by Charles VI, then the Holy Roman Emperor, in 1713, to honor the end of the last great plague epidemic. St. Charles was revered as a healer for plague victims.

The massive columns at the entrance are covered with carved relief scenes of his life and are modeled after Trajan's Column in Rome (that column commemorates Roman emperor Trajan's victory in the Dacian Wars). 

The interior of the church is spectacular, if you are into Baroque.

I find the marble and gold more appealing to the heart and soul than the dark, grey interior of Stephensdom.

Note the scaffolding: the church has been under renovation for at least a decade, so you can't get away from the scaffolds. Karlskirche is especially renowned for its brilliant frescoes. The paintings are spectacular, and if you are brave and willing to part with 8€, you can take a small lift to the top and just about reach out and touch the ceiling paintings. 

We were content to view them from ground level. 

 I don't know why, but I love this charming model of the church. Why they have it right in the entry way, I can not say. I think it's a bit like posting an enormous painting of yourself in your own dining room, but, to each his own. 

It was a beautiful, sunny day when we visited, and we happened to have a horde of children large and small in tow. There was less love than you might imagine among the children for touring the church itself. So we left them outside to fend for themselves.

Notice the large group of rowdy children climbing all over that Henry Moore statue in the fountain in front of Karlskirche. I disavow any knowledge of any of them. I was assured that they had nothing to do with the placement of that park bench in the fountain. They found it that way. They swear. 

Next: Incongruities

 

 

 

 

 

 

#15 IT

Caution: there are several potentially offensive bits in this post, including underage s*x and use of the "n" word. Feel free to skip it today. 

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What Buzzfeed says: Granted, this is Stephen King, so it’s going to be a scary read. That being said, this story about a group of children being terrorized by some anonymous entity goes beyond surface-level horror. It opens up a dialogue about childhood trauma and the power of memory, as well as the unspoken ugliness that hides in small-town values.

I loved reading Stephen King when I was a kid. And by "kid," I mean into my early 20s. The Shining, Carrie, Pet Cemetery. I loved the way King told stories that made you shiver and believe the unbelievable.

"IT" came out in 1986, when I would have been 22 years old. The basic story is that a group of six 11-year old boys and one girl come together one summer to defeat an otherworldly monster who has been haunting the area of their town since the world began. The group form a tight bond and succeed in sending the monster away. They recognize that they have not killed it, and so swear a vow to return the next time it cycles back. The story is told in flashbacks to their childhood and switches to the 'present day' (1985) as they come together again as adults. 

I remember reading the book in 1986 and being completely sucked in until the memorable moment when (brace yourself, if you are not familiar with the story) when all of the 11-year old boys have s*x with the one girl. I remember being turned about inside out with disgust by the concept. I tossed the book out and never picked up another Stephen King novel. 

Parallel to my feeling of revulsion, there was also a nagging feeling that at 22, when I happened to be in a deep, dark Russian Literature phase (being completely horrified by Lolita, by the way, although adoring Nabokov to this day), that I had outgrown the work of someone I vaguely thought of as a hack writer. I mean, he's a fine enough story teller, but I didn't really think of Stephen King a a proper literary writer. Ah, the naivete and pomposity of youth. 

It's 27 years later, and when the book showed up on Buzzfeed's list, I curled my lip, thinking, "Ew." I didn't remember much about IT, but I sure did remember the part that curdled my blood, and it didn't have anything to do with the monster hidden below the streets of Derry, Maine. 

But, being the good List Follower than I am, I downloaded it and was immediately plunged into King's weird and wild world. Man, he's an amazing storyteller. And I was astonished to realize that I do think he's a great wordsmith. I'm going to toss in some quotes, and, again, be ready: not all of this is PC. 

 “In this universe there might grow roses which sing.”   <-- lovely! 

 “so here he sits one drunk nigger in a public library after closing, with the book open in front of me and the bottle of Old Kentucky on my left. 'Tell the truth and shame the devil,' my mom used to say , but she forgot to tell me that sometimes you can't shame Mr Splitfoot sober. The Irish know, but of course they're God's white niggers and who knows maybe they're a step ahead.”  <-- I found this compelling and insightful. But then, I'm Irish. 

 “Guys like Henry and his buddies were an accident waiting to happen; the little kids' version of floods or tornadoes or gallstones.” <-- simple truth, well put.

“God favors drunks, small children, and the cataclysmically stoned...” <-- simple truth, well put.

“If you find a footnote, ” a library-science prof once told a class of which I was a part, “step on its head and kill it before it can breed.” <-- as a huge lover of footnotes, this just tickled me.

So, yeah, he's not Nabokov, but I think he can turn a phrase well enough to count as a real writer. There is a lot of debate on this topic, by the way, by people who are much more vested in the literary community than the likes of moi. 

I read a quote about Stephen King that described him as being to writing what Michael Bay is to movies: "...successful, entertaining, popular, but no lasting literary value." I'm not sure I agree with that: his stories, while they don't necessarily have the weight of the ages to hold them solid for the next four hundred years, may well be exactly the sort of thing that carries into the future: horror. Plus, please educate me, how many Shakespeares are there? Does everything have to last forever to be good? 

As for the story itself, I found the human characters and their relationships in IT believable and incredibly engaging. They were real people with real problems, who also happened to be fighting a monster. The monster was mostly believable, but luckily, my investment in the human characters was so high by the time I got to the bit that was hard to swallow, I didn't care.

The the bit that upset me so much the first time I read the book? I was dreading getting there, because I was enjoying the story and the characters so very much that I wanted that part to be something that hadn't happened; something that was part of some filmy false memory of youth.

Nope. When I got to it, I seriously thought about just skipping over it. It was so horrifying to me, to imagine these children engaging in adult intercourse. Ick,ick,ick,ick!  I was on a treadmill in the middle of a long run when the scene began playing out. My skin started crawling, and I could feel my shoulders curling up in disgust, in the first signs that I was going to just about turn inside out with ... wait for it ... horror. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. Stephen King is a horror writer, right? Well, I was well horrified. So, kudos Mr. King, you completely freaked me out. Twice.  

Ick. I still think the story would be better if that particular section had been managed in a different way. But, I thoroughly enjoyed 98% of the time I spent with IT. Enough that I am seriously thinking about picking up The Stand again. I read it a million years ago and remember really thinking it was a great read. So, time to check it out again and see if it holds up. I suspect it will. 

Next: Karlskirche, Wien

 

 

In Which We Reap What We Have Sown

Seriously, if you are going to pack boxes away in a storage unit labeled "Unknown Crap," you deserve to have a miserable time unpacking. 

I will give you one piece of advice: if you are planning to pack your life up in a storage unit and come back X years later, stop. Instead of a storage unit, get a dumpster! 

And here's a useful piece of advice: you know those rocks? Don't pack them and pay to put them in a storage unit. They are rocks. They belong out of doors. Particularly the very heavy ones.  

And, keep the furniture. Really, it would have been nice to have something to sit on. 

During our first, frenetic week (1), I stopped at the library and picked up Peter Walsh's "It's All Too Much." I am not a "self-help" book reader sort of person, but man, this book was exactly what I needed at exactly the moment I picked it up. I'm not even sure what made me look for it, but whatever karmic nudge sent me in its direction was well timed. 

The description of the book makes it sound like some sort of prescription for clean living. I'm not a completely disorganized person, nor am I anything even remotely like a hoarder. But, like most people, I keep stuff. And "stuff" is what we found in our storage unit. Mostly pretty useless stuff. We could have used towels. Instead we found books. We could have used a table and chairs. Instead we found baby toys. Honestly, what was I thinking?? 

But, as I slog through the morass of stuff that is now parked in my garage, preventing me from parking my actual car in my car garage, I am putting on my game face. Less stuff, more space. 

Except in the corner of my family room. There we have more stuff: a couch. Jeff looks a lot cozier now, doesn't he? 

My first Big Girl Couch; I'm fairly chuffed, you can imagine. It's the first brand new sofa I have ever owned. 

Next: Book #15 on Buzzfeed's List of 32 Books Guaranteed to Change My Life: IT, by Stephen King

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(1) I will point out that in our first frenetic week when only three out of four of us actually had beds to sleep in, I made a point of getting us all to the library and registering for library cards: priorites, I have them.